1911
6.84
25.iii.25
drinking in
for wise surprise
strange time of year
fresh out of seasons
a day to make and unmake music
can’t you see there’s an escape to
make?
the weather is perpetual here
why depict?
it just takes you out of the picture
the seen, the heard, felt, touched
too
all irrelevant, all past
and they may say I am too
I am to the moment making
I’d rather be in the blank of when
and go again
keep a tin of old housepaint in the
shed
just in case
drink in my skyful here
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